Work Text:
December 2009 -- Ottawa
Ilya POV
Ilya wanted a cigarette. A real cigarette.
He was in his teammates room with half the team scattered around, loudly making jokes while the Black Eyed Peas performed on TV. It was New Year's Eve, and Ilya was ready to be alone.
He tried to quietly sneak out, but his team was not having it. They were undefeated in the competition so far, probably will remain so through to the final round, and celebrations were a requirement with this group.
(Overlapping Russian voices) “Hey Rozanov, where are you going?” “You're going to miss the ball drop!” “Yeah, come on Rozy, Black Eyed Peas are not done!”
“I want a cigarette, and is too loud to hear anyway.”
“You know you aren't supposed to be smoking. Here, have this.” (Teammate) tosses a packet of nicotine gum with just a couple pieces left. “I have more in my room.”
“I know, I know, but just one smoke for New Year's luck. Then disgusting gum for rest of games.”
“Yeah, yeah, ok. Go.”
Ilya passes his room on the way to the elevator, and hesitates outside the door. Could he just do what his coaches told him and stick with the gum? His bed is right there, and it is cold outside. No, this gum won't be enough to satisfy what he is really craving tonight. Or rather, who he is craving. A cigarette might.
As he presses the down button for the elevator, he wonders if he went to the hotel gym, would he find Shane Hollander on the treadmill? No, he isn't staying at the hotel with his team, he is probably with his perfect friends and perfect family celebrating the New Year in his perfect hometown.
Moments later the elevator doors open to show Shane Hollander staring back at him.
Ilya freezes for a moment, before realizing he is looking at a poster promoting the championship games he and his team are currently competing in. Ilya needs to calm down, Hollander would not be in full hockey gear in a hotel elevator in the middle of the night. He hits the button for the lobby, and tries not to stare, but fuck it who's going to see him looking? Ottawa was obviously in love with their hometown hero, his face and his freckles were haunting him everywhere he turned, on newspapers, television, buses, banners, the sides of buildings, and it turns out in one of the hotel elevators.
It has already been a whole year since perfectly polite Shane Hollander introduced himself at the World Juniors in Saskatchewan. As Ilya walks through the hotel lobby and out into the icy Canadian air, he remembers those warm brown eyes on that cold gray day after practice when he stepped outside for a cigarette, much like he is doing tonight.
As Ilya turns to the smoking hut near the parking lot, he reaches into his pocket to fish a cigarette out of the pack, and he remembers the most recent time he saw Hollander. After the draft six months ago, when Ilya nearly embarrassed himself at that hotel gym in Los Angeles, nearly openly flirting with him. Wanting to press him against the wall and hungrily take his mouth. He probably could've covered it up with his usual cocky charm, but he's not sure Hollander would've hated it all that much. He's always been able to read people, and unless he was entirely mistaken, Hollander probably would've kissed him right back.
He puts the cigarette in his mouth, and pulls out his lighter. *chk* *chk* *chk* “Godamn fucking lighter” *chk* *chk*
“You know, you really shouldn't be smoking”
Ilya turns and there is Shane Hollander, walking out of the shadowy mist. The unlit cigarette falls to the ground, forgotten.
~~~~~~~
Shane POV
Shane’s ears are ringing, he is entirely too hot, and he is ready to be done socializing.
The team has gone undefeated so far in the championships, and his teammates have convinced him to celebrate New Year's Eve with them at the hotel. “C’mon, what's New Year's without our captain?” “At least stay for the count down!” “Hollzy, you've gotta have some fun with the team.”
After convincing him to stay, Shane calls his mom. “Hey mom, the team is celebrating New Year's together here at the hotel. As you know, I am the captain of the team, and it is customary to attend the various social events the team has, so...”
“Yes, Shane, that is normal. You are an adult, have fun with your team! Maybe make some friends? Do you want us to get a room for you?”
“Oh thanks! Uh, no. I think the hotel is full with all the players from the other teams anyway? A couple of the guys offered to ask for a cot for me in their room, but I don't plan to stay the night here. You know I have my bedtime routine, and my-”
“-and your sleep schedule, and your morning routine, and your pre-portioned breakfast. Yes sweetheart, of course I remember, I helped create those tools with you. Well, we will leave the light on for you, but we won't wait up. Go have fun Shane, and don't hurry home! I love you sweetheart.”
“I love you too, mom.”
So here he is, crammed in a hotel room with a dozen other guys, TV blaring, heat blasting, lights buzzing. He looks at his phone, sees it is down to a five percent charge, and decides to take that opportunity to go cool off.
“Hey, my phone's about to die, and I think I left my charger in the car, I'll be right back.”
“You better hurry, it'll be midnight soon!”
“I will, but there's plenty of time.”
As he walks through the hallway to the elevator, he hears the sounds of other teams having their own celebrations, and wonders if Rozanov is behind one of those doors. Shane’s obsession with him is very obviously only because of his hockey skills, and for absolutely no other reason than that. Not for the way his fingers slid over Shane's in that hotel gym in LA, or for his flushed post-workout skin, or how his curls fell damply into his hazel eyes. Not for his smart mouth, or his cocky grin. Or the way his lips move when he talks, or how those lips might feel on Shane's… Fuck, he needs to stop thinking about Rozanov.
Shane is surprised, and then immediately embarrassed, by his own face as the elevator doors open. He still isn't used to being in promotional materials, and to be posted in the hotel all the teams are staying in? He just knows someone is going to chirp him about it on the ice. Probably Rozanov, he is such an asshole. After pressing the button for the lobby, Shane closes his eyes so he doesn't have to look at himself. Instead he remembers meeting Rozanov for the first time nearly exactly a year ago at World Juniors in Saskatchewan. He was so nervous, but just had to meet the hockey player who moved so beautifully on the ice.
Once the elevator opens again, Shane moves across the lobby, exiting to the parking lot and turning towards his parked car. He sees the hotel's smoking hut, and can't help but smile as he recalls how Rozanov was lighting up right under a no smoking sign when Shane walked up to him that day. ‘You aren't supposed to smoke here.’ Shane still can't believe that's what he opened with. He should've said more about Rozanov’s skill and talent, the grace and beauty in his movement. Then he had another chance in that hotel gym, and blew it stuck in his feelings about the draft. Rozanov had to have quit smoking since draft day, right? Shane passes the empty hut sure he wouldn't find anyone, and wonders what he would have said if a certain someone had been there.
He grabs his charger out of his car, and coat draped over his arm, decides to take a walk around the block. He is still too hot, there is plenty of time until midnight, and he's not ready to face that crowded hotel room yet. It's a beautiful night, and there is excitement in the chilly air with all of the noisy celebrations around the misty city.
As Shane walks, he can't help but wonder what Rozanov is doing tonight. He has learned that New Year's is a big family holiday in Russian culture, but he doesn't think Rozanov brought his family last year, and probably not this year either. Halfway around the block Shane finally pulls on his coat leaving it unzipped, and he hopes it isn't too lonely to be halfway around the world from your family during the holidays. They haven't faced each other in the competition yet, and probably won't until the gold medal game, but Shane wonders if they'll see each other at all before then.
As he imagines what their next meeting will be, he’s suddenly back at his car, and has to decide if he has cooled down enough to head back upstairs to his team. It's nearly midnight now, so only a little while longer before he can make his excuses and go home. As he turns to head back into the hotel, he hears a familiar noise coming from the smoking hut.
*chk* *chk* *chk* “Godamn fucking lighter” *chk* *chk*
Shane can't believe it, it's Ilya Rozanov. And he's still fucking smoking? He's been drafted to a professional team!
“You know, you really shouldn't be smoking.” God, not again, can't he talk about anything else?
Rozanov turns and Shane is delighted to see his mouth fall open, cigarette dropping to the ground, before flashing his signature smirk at him once again.
“Hollander, da I know. But is just one, for New Year's luck, yes?”
Shane joins Rozanov in the smoking hut, watching every move of his lips as he speaks, not realizing how close he's getting just so he can see better in the dim light. “Smoking is bad for you. Haven't your coaches said anything?”
“They give me disgusting gum. I chew it all week. And last week. And next week. I have one cigarette tonight. For New Year's. Lucky.”
“Did you run out of the gum? Is that why you're out here smoking? We're in the middle of a competition Rozanov, you really should be maximizing your-”
Rozanov steps into Shane, pressing him back against a pillar, he pulls a mostly empty plastic pack from his pocket, waving it in Shane's face. “I do have gum, I do not have luck. Maybe you would give me luck instead?” Shane pulls his gaze away from his steaming mouth just in time to catch his lusty wink.
Shane notices he is overheating again, with Rozanov‘s hot body in front of him, and the cold of the pillar at his back blocked by his too warm coat. “How could I possibly give you luck? It's not like luck is a physical object I can just hand over.” Closing his eyes, Shane absently pulls his coat off, and it falls from his arms, forgotten. He shivers slightly as he feels the cold pillar press into his back. Undoing a couple buttons near his collar, he slowly feels his temperature starting to regulate itself again. Opening his eyes, he peers up through his lashes. “And why would I want to give you luck anyway? We're in competition, I should have the luck!”
~~~~~~
Ilya POV
Ilya can't believe what he's seeing, is Hollander undressing for him? Pressed up against the pillar, Ilya notices the rosy flush creeping up his neck and face, adding pink to the freckles scattering his cheeks. It's like Hollander isn't paying attention to what his hands are doing, slowly sliding the thick coat down his broad shoulders. Ilya intently watches every single move he makes, grabbing his coat before it drops on the ground, and tossing it on the hut’s bench nearby. Licking his lips, Ilya rakes his eyes over every new inch he can see of Hollander, as he seems to shiver at the increased attention, slowly unbuttoning just 2 buttons at the top of his shirt. Jesus this is hot, this sure feels lucky. “You do not need luck. But ok. Is easy on New Year's. We can both have luck.”
Ilya's gaze traveling over this newly exposed skin, is caught by those dark brown eyes sparkling up into his hazel ones. “What does that even mean?”
In the distance, fireworks begin to explode. Muffled cheering pours out of the hotel around them. It's midnight and the start of a new year.
“New Year's kiss is lucky too.“ Ilya purrs as he grabs his chin, bringing their mouths close enough for their breath to mingle. “Works both ways. We both are lucky. You want?”
“Oh….Yes. I want.”
Ilya gently brushes his hot lips against Hollander‘s cool mouth, as he leans into him with a moan. Ilya tilts his head to deepen the kiss, nudging with his tongue to encourage Hollander to open for him, hands tangling in his hair. Their tongues slide together messily, while Hollander brings his hands up along Ilya's chest. After another moment, Hollander stiffens and gently pushes back against Ilya.
“This is probably a bad idea. What if someone sees?”
“Is luck, Hollander, no one will see. It is New Year, yes?”
“Yes.”
Ilya leans forward to kiss him again, but Hollander extracts himself from between Ilya and the pillar.
“Not here.” Hollander grabs his coat from the bench, and turns back. “Happy New Year Rozanov, thanks for the luck. You are going to need yours.” He winks before heading back out into the parking lot.
“See you in final.” Ilya says to his back, getting a wave in response, before turning to go back up to his room.
This is already starting out to be the luckiest New Year Ilya has ever had. He pops a piece of gum in his mouth grimacing at the taste, as the planning gears start turning. How to keep the luck going? Not here, so where? He sees Hollander’s poster in the elevator and remembers the talk of a photoshoot for that ad campaign in a few months. Would he have to do it solo? Maybe not…
Think about it later. Alexei is calling. Fuck.
~~~~~~
Shane POV
Holy shit.
Shane can't believe Ilya Rozanov just kissed him. At midnight. On New Year's. And he let him. His head is spinning as he unthinkingly gets in his car and just drives away, arriving home before he remembers the excuse he made to his team. He texts his teammate something about a dead phone and charger at home, before collapsing into bed to relive the night.
This sure feels lucky.